


To Reconcile All Things Unto Himself

by fawatson



Category: The Charioteer - Mary Renault
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-12
Updated: 2010-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-13 15:43:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fawatson/pseuds/fawatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gareth Straike 'finds out' about Ralph Lanyon</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Reconcile All Things Unto Himself

**Author's Note:**

  * For [toujours_nigel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/toujours_nigel/gifts).



> (1) Optional Details Requested by the Recipient: "I would love absolutely any TC fic you choose to write. If you're looking for ideas, school-age fic where Laurie brings home stories of "The Lanyon" would be delightful, as would stories of Lucy visiting the boys. Rev. Straike 'finding out' about Lanyon would also be quite fun to read about."  
> (2) St Paul wrote in his epistle to the Colossians: "That it pleased the Father that in Him should all fullness dwell; and, having made peace through the blood of His cross, by Him to reconcile all things unto Himself; by Him, I say, whether they be things in earth, or things in heaven." (Col. 1:19-20);  
> (3) The carol excerpt at the end is from “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear”.  
> (4) Many thanks to my beta-reader, whose help with the scene between Ralph and Straike was invaluable.  
> (5) More fanfiction based on _The Charioteer_ can be found at: http://community.livejournal.com/maryrenaultfics/

“Here – over here!” Lucy waved to attract her son’s attention as he stepped down from the train. It was just so good he had been able to get enough time off work to make the trip home for the holidays. She had hoped so, and planned for the eventuality, but not been quite sure it would come off until he’d rung last week to confirm.

The fair head beside Laurie gleamed in the last of the late afternoon sun. One more for Christmas dinner, she thought anxiously. Still, it would have been churlish to turn away Laurie’s friend, when he had nowhere else to go for the holidays, even if it did make the meat rationing very tight. There would have to be lots of vegetables to fill people up. She reached up to give her son a quick hug and kiss as he reached her side.

“Was the trip _very_ bad?” she asked as she shook Ralph’s hand, “Your train was terribly delayed.”

“No, just long. We seemed to be shunted into a siding for a time – not sure why,” Laurie replied. “Well, one never is told the reason, nowadays.”

Lucy gave a perfunctory nod before she took the lead from the railway station. It was really just a little halt at the edge of the village. There was a light sprinkling of snow on the footpath which wended its way out to the high street. Laurie walked a few steps behind her, responding to the polite conversation she made as she walked. Ralph brought up the rear, overnight cases in hand.

“You’ll be sharing a room, I’m afraid. Olive is staying with us over the holidays, so we are dreadfully tight for space,” Lucy explained, as they stopped on the front doorstep briefly while she fished out the key. “I didn’t think you’d mind _too_ much though, since you are old school chums.”

“Not at all,” murmured Ralph. “Allow me, Mrs Straike,” he said, as she struggled to turn the stiff lock. He reached across and deftly gave the key a hard twist to the left, then pushed the door open, standing back politely to let Lucy enter first. She paused briefly to take off her hat, and Ralph helped her off with her coat. The men’s coats and scarves were added to a row of pegs on the wall by the entrance. Lucy rested her handbag on the floor near a credenza, then led the way again.

“I’ll take you straight up, so you can get settled and wash off the dirt from your travels before tea.”

The vicarage stairway was dingy, lit only by a narrow rectangular window on the tiny landing halfway up, where the stairs turned a corner. Dark panelling halfway up the walls added to the gloom. Above the panelling hung a series of allegorical embroideries framed in dark wood, clearly leftover from the last century. On the first floor landing, four doors led to the various rooms. Lucy pointed to one.

“The bathroom’s there; and,” she opened a door on the left of the landing, “here’s your room.”

The small room was barely wide enough to fit in two narrow beds separated by a small bedside table. Opposite one bed was a three drawer oak chest; there was just room on the other side for the door to open without hitting the other bed. Laurie recognised his old rag rug on the floor between the beds; but apart from this none of the comforts, such as they were, looked familiar. Both beds were neatly made though, with perfectly turned corners, and pristine linen.

“I haven’t been able to decorate in here yet,” his mother said apologetically.

“It’s fine, Mum,” Laurie reassured her. “After, all, we didn’t give you much notice; and in any case, we only plan to be here for three nights.”

“I’ve had far worse billets my time, Mrs Straike.” Ralph, too, was quick to reassure her, and flashed his most charming smile.

“Yes of course,” she smiled back. “A naval officer would be used to roughing it. I do hope we can do better than _that_ though!”

“Which side?” Ralph asked, after she left, “left or right?”

The facilities were quickly used; then Laurie’s overnight case was swiftly emptied into the top drawer and the empty bag shoved under the bed. Ralph’s belongings followed in the second drawer, with the exception of a small packet wrapped in brown paper. This he brought with him as they made their way back downstairs.

“Do let me-” Laurie reached out for the heavy tray Olive was carrying from kitchen to sitting room, while Ralph offered the package to his hostess.

“Oh my!” exclaimed Lucy as she examined it. “There must be fully a pound here! However did you find the coupons?”

Ralph just smiled in reply. The ration coupons had been the least of it. Finding a butcher willing to part with that much bacon to one customer had taken considerable ingenuity; but he had been conscious of the strain another mouth to feed could put on any household – especially at such short notice, most particularly for a festive occasion.

It was just the four of them for tea. Lucy explained that Gareth had been called out to a parishioner who was unwell; she wasn’t sure when he would get back. Aunt Olive kept busy handing round cups of tea and plates of sandwiches and homemade biscuits. The sandwiches were dainty thin ones – the type the men didn’t bother making nowadays. Without looking, Laurie popped one whole into his mouth.

“Tomatoes!” he exclaimed. “I haven’t seen any fresh tom’s in the city in ages!”

“I supposed that’s one advantage the vicarage has over our old cottage,” Lucy said, a trifle smugly. “There is a small greenhouse up against a sheltered spot on the back wall of the house. It is late in the year, of course, but I brought a couple of pots inside for winter. We grow all our own vegetables. Gareth is very conscientious about doing our bit for the war effort. I _thought_ you might enjoy them; I remember how much you always enjoyed a nice ripe tomato. And it’s not the sort of thing you get in canteen meals.” She plied the two men with food, all the while gently probing for details of their lives, so far from her day-to-day existence.

“So handy,” Lucy said, “that the two of you ended up with posts in the same place, after Laurie left Oxford.”

“Most fortunate,” Ralph agreed. “Particularly since Spud here graduated around the time my previous lodger was posted overseas. He needed a place and I needed the rent. And, of course, it helped out a member of the old college.”

“Why, yes, of _course_ ; I remember well from my own school days,” Aunt Olive interjected. “The friendships one makes at school are often the closest. Lucy, dearest, it is such a shame your parents decided against sending you to school. She had a governess, you know,” confided Aunt Olive, “and sadly missed out on the excitements of tuck box parties at midnight.”

Laurie watched in awe as Ralph charmed tales of schoolgirl adventures from his old-maid aunt, who blushed and smiled at his attention, as deftly he turned the conversation from those awkward personal questions.

His mother got out her sewing basket, took from it a piece of dark material which she spread on her lap, and fished through until she found a needle and cotton.

“Another biscuit, dear?” Aunt Olive appeared before him proffering a plate of ginger nuts.

“Thank you, yes.” Laurie took a biscuit and waited patiently while his aunt moved on to offer the plate to Ralph. She maintained a steady stream of reminiscences even while offering the food round.

Lucy was carefully selecting buttons from a button box; Laurie couldn’t quite make out what she was working on. It looked quite fancy, though.

What is that you are making, Mother?” asked Laurie.

Briefly, Lucy stopped rummaging through the box to display what she was working on: a waistcoat in black velvet. “It’s for Gareth,” she explained. “He really doesn’t have a good one for special occasions. So I thought I’d make it for his Christmas present. It was quite impossible to find new material in the shops, but I managed to find an old skirt I could cut a piece from, and the lining came from an old coat. The problem now is finding enough buttons to match.” She resumed her search of the button box, but then, hearing the front door slam, hastily bundled the waistcoat down the side of her chair.

She was just in time; the sitting room door opened to reveal a raw-boned middle aged man, red-faced from the cold. His guarded polite smile turned genuine as his gaze fell on his wife; and he crossed to her first, bent down, and planted a warm kiss on her lips.

“I trust you have had a good day, my dear?”

Lucy glowed as she raised her face to her husband. “We’ve been having a lovely cosy chat waiting for you, Gareth.”

“Good, good,” he responded, before holding his hand out to Laurie. “Laurence, my boy; it is good to see you again.” Laurie was conscious the sentiment, while conventionally correct, was not entirely true, and wondered privately if there was a special dispensation for vicars who told socially correct lies. Though he supposed Mr Straike could hardly say otherwise, in the circumstances.

“You may remember my old friend Ralph Lanyon?” Laurie gestured to Ralph who had risen and now held out his hand in greeting.

“It was very good of you to allow me to gatecrash for the holidays,” Ralph said, “especially at such short notice.”

“When my dear wife explained your ship had docked early, and you had nowhere else to go for the festive season, I hope I knew my duty.”

Laurie felt himself bristling at Straike’s unctuous tone, but a quick glance at Ralph calmed. His face held his most bland expression. If Ralph did not take umbrage, then how could he? Resigned, Laurie settled back into a chair, prepared for a long evening. He supposed he should get used to such whenever he visited his mother now. At least he and Ralph would have a chance to share their impressions at the end of the day. He applied himself to entertaining his mother and Aunt Olive, while Ralph discussed the war effort with his host.

The next morning dawned overcast, though the radio announcer promised the skies would clear as the day went on. There had been a slight thaw overnight, and the temperature was mild for December. The morning was spent helping with various chores, as the house was made ready for the celebrations. Under Olive’s direction, Ralph was put to good use climbing on a ladder putting up decorations and in numerous trips down to the cellar to bring up boxes of fine china. Laurie found himself ushering his mother round the village as she dropped off various parcels to elderly parishioners and poor households. He quickly realised he was there as much to be shown off, as to carry her packages. Only Gareth was exempt from the minutiae of preparing the house for Christmas, concentrating, as he was, on his sermon.

“He needs complete peace and quiet so he can compose. It is so important to get it right – the most important day of the year,” said Lucy.

“Hmm,” Gareth cleared his throat portentously, “one might consider Easter even more so, my dear – from a canonical perspective.”

“ _Not_ from a family perspective, though,” Lucy firmly refuted, as she handed him his hat, gloves, and a tooled red leather folder with some paper. “And I am sure you will find it much easier to focus in the vestry. There is plenty of wood for the stove; I checked especially yesterday.”

By mid-afternoon the women’s ingenuity at finding tasks for the men had been exhausted; and Lucy and Olive shifted to the kitchen for a marathon of baking. The weather had cleared, so the sun shone invitingly; Laurie and Ralph escaped to the hills for a few hours. They took the path that led from the edge of the village along a meandering streambed and up to the hills beyond.

“God, I thought we’d never get away! I used to love all the fuss as a child. I don’t remember quite so much _work_.”

“Children never do,” Ralph responded evenly. “Things just appear before them ready made, meals and presents and garlands alike. I was rather enjoying it, though.”

“Were you really?”

“Christmas was quite different in my house when I was young.”

Laurie looked at his friend curiously, waiting for more; Ralph rarely spoke of his childhood. The silence lengthened between them as neither man spoke.

“You know you can’t leave it at that.”

“Can’t I?” Ralph’s smile was just a slight twist of lips – not the broad grin he gave when he was really happy.

Laurie remembered this path from many a ramble of years past; one branch of it led to a sheltered lookout over the dales, semi-secluded behind shrubbery. He took the left fork that ended on a wide flat rock, stopping well before the edge to sit against a limestone outcrop.

“Gyp and I came here so many times on rambles,” he began. “It seems strange to come along this way without him.”

Ralph touched his hand briefly in sympathy, but was surprised when Laurie gripped him with sudden strength.

“Christmas has bad memories for you, doesn’t it, Ralph?”

“Some,” the other man admitted. “Not so many since you.”

Laurie waited. There had been a time when he would have rushed to speak; but the last year had taught patience. Ralph’s confidences were always slow in the speaking; he wrote with more facility than he spoke. (More than once he had shown Laurie his journals rather than say the words out loud.) Now, even more than last year, he understood the betrayal Ralph had felt when he believed – falsely, thank God – that Alec had spoken out of turn.

Ralph’s words came slowly. “It was joyless. It didn’t have to be. Not all Brethren homes were like ours. But somehow, in our house, the religion turned accusatory and sour, and nothing seemed to bring that out more than the joys of Christmas. Other boys at school might have been sad when the holidays finished; I was always glad to get back. Ever more so, as I grew up and realised what I was, and knew what my family would have thought if they’d known too. “But here... didn’t you notice how much we all enjoyed each other’s company this morning?”

“Even Aunt Olive?”

Ralph laughed. “Yes, even Aunt Olive. All your little family traditions make it fun; and clearly you want to be together for the holidays, which makes all the difference.”

“Or, even if we don’t exactly _want_ to be together,” said Laurie, thinking about Straike, “we manage to rub along – with a little help from Mother organising things to keep us out of each other’s way.

“Precisely, your family is so different from mine.”

“Not _so_ different,” Laurie grimaced. “Did you not notice Mother’s probing about a girlfriend?”

Ralph shook his head. “She wants what every mother wants – grandchildren. And of course she would feel disappointed, and worried for you, if she knew the truth. I understand why you don’t tell her; bound in convention she would struggle to understand. As the vicar’s wife, it would be hard on her. But...," he hesitated, awkwardly, "she loves you, Laurie. You do know that, right?"

“I know.” Laurie spoke in a low voice. “It’s why I don’t want her to know about us. Straike would _make_ her choose.”

Ralph threw his left arm round his friend’s shoulders and hugged him, stroking the back of his head lightly in comfort. As he withdrew from the embrace he noticed a flicker of movement behind Laurie on the path. He forced himself to relax. Probably it was nothing – a stray leaf caught in the slight breeze that was springing up as the day drew in.

“Time to get back,” Laurie said.

The pair retraced their steps. Dusk was falling by the time they had descended the hill path and reached the village once more. Blackout curtains left no chink of light; Laurie couldn’t help comparing the dark silent high street of this year with the memories from his childhood, when every house would have shown a lamp, and the parish council would have paid for a modest display of lights strung across the street. A shadow hovering by the gate to the churchyard moved to reveal Mr Straike as they approached; he appeared to be waiting for them.

“Good evening, Sir,” greeted Ralph politely.

“Good evening,” replied the vicar. “I wonder if I could ask your assistance,” he said; and then, with a gesture behind him, “inside.”

Laurie moved to accompany Ralph, but a quick shake of Straike’s head changed his direction. “Perhaps, Laurence, you could go ahead and tell your mother we are delayed a few minutes and will be with her shortly. It is your friend’s assistance I need.”

“But–”

“Go along, Laurie,” Ralph said, with a slight smile, “I think Mr Straike needs someone a bit taller than you – and handier with a ladder. Am I not right, Sir?”

Mr Straike nodded, smiled awkwardly, and looked relieved when Laurie accepted the explanation and turned toward home. The older man entered the church first, closely followed by the younger. The heavy door clanged shut behind them, echo reverberating through the nave. Silently, the vicar led the way to the vestry. Once there, he began without any preliminaries.

“I happened upon you earlier, when you were up in the hills. I _saw_ you.”

Straike’s voice was heavy with a meaning Ralph could not mistake, which placed every sense on high alert. Nonetheless he deliberately kept his tone non-committal as he responded. No need to invite problems for Laurie if this could be smoothed over.

“Did you?”

“As a man of the cloth, I hope I know my Christian duty,” Mr Straike stated.

“Indeed, I am sure you do, Sir.” Ralph was reminded of a time when he was below decks and called on the carpet by the Chief Petty Officer for some minor infraction. He had finessed his way out of trouble that time by being exceedingly polite; perhaps it would work now.

“It seemed to me, that, perhaps...” Having started so forthrightly, now that it came to the point, Straike seemed to falter, “...perhaps you had misunderstood the nature of young Laurence’s friendship, of his _gratitude_ over the fact you saved his life at Dunkirk.

“I’m not sure I take your meaning, Sir,” said Ralph, politely if insincerely. He took his meaning all right – the old bugger – but if there was any way he could head off problems for Laurie (not to mention himself), he needed to do his damnedest now.

“Laurence is, perhaps, a little backward, about some matters. I have noticed it about him, since I married my dear wife, his mother. But there, is, of course, no malice or evil in his nature, I am sure. I have noticed, in fact, that he appears somewhat innocent, even peculiarly _unaware_ , when he encounters influences which might be considered...dubious. Would you not agree?”

“He is certainly someone who tends to see the best in people, I agree.”

“Precisely,” said Straike, “a quality which demands that those around him are ever vigilant in his best interests.”

There was a long pause. Clearly Straike expected some answer, and he looked somewhat put out when Ralph kept silence. The vicar cleared his throat, and clenched his hands.

“I will not stand by and see him led into sin, when I can take action. I know my calling and will be true to it.”

Straike stood poker-straight. The tick at the corner of his mouth betrayed the strength of his feelings. Unwillingly, unexpectedly, Ralph found himself feeling sympathy for the man. His disapproval was obvious; his discomfort at this confrontation palpable. Limited he might be; yet, he did not shirk his duty, as he saw it, within the confines of his narrow-minded principles.

“I would never want to see Laurie harmed, nor led astray either, Sir.” Ralph spoke more gently than he had originally intended, and he chose his words carefully. “Nor do I think I could, if I tried. He knows what is right and wrong; and truth be told, keeps me on the straight path, when otherwise I might stray.” There: not a word of a lie, but, if he were lucky, entirely misleading. Hopefully the irritating man would take entirely the wrong inference.

“I am pleased to hear it.”

A little surprised, also, Ralph thought wryly to himself. Laurie as a staunch pillar of rectitude was clearly not the image the man had of his stepson.

“Surely you realise the danger to Laurence if he remains friends with such as yourself? Innocent as he is, he does not see the peril of your friendship; but I, entrusted with the guidance of his mortal soul, feel I must intervene on his behalf.”

Ralph wondered inwardly what Laurie would say when he learned that Straike viewed himself as his stepson’s spiritual guardian.

“I see...,” he said slowly. “What would you have me do?”

He was curious to see what the man would ask. For him to leave immediately? That could prove rather difficult on Christmas Eve, particularly at this time. There was only one train each day from the tiny local station, and it was long since gone. Besides, what excuse was Ralph expected to give Mrs Straike for such an untimely departure? By confronting him here, and alone, Mr Straike had made it clear he did not want his wife to know what he had discovered.

“I see from your response that I was somewhat mistaken earlier, in my fears. You are a war hero; and as you say, clearly you have looked to Laurence to help you find the true and right path.” Mr Straike still looked somewhat amazed at this, but continued his painfully earnest and deeply embarrassed speech. “You appear not to be completely lost to all decency. Not _yet_ at least. Your path to redemption is clear.” For a moment, he hesitated, then went on with certainty, "Yes, clear. You must repent, you understand?...repent and make oath, to yourself and to God...that you will never give in to...," he hesitated again, "to perversion (yes, perversion)...not ever again.” His colour had deepened with embarrassment, but he met Ralph's eyes with conviction.

This Ralph had not anticipated; perhaps the Church of England had more in common with the Brethren than he had previously appreciated. For a moment, he almost feared that Straike would haul out a Bible and insist he swear now, right now, in unequivocal words. “Repent...” he said somewhat wonderingly.

“Indeed; I have seen the hand of providence in my dear wife’s invitation to you this Christmas. Clearly God brought you to us to see you back on the path of righteousness. You must never fear that our Lord cannot forgive the sinner.”

“...to reconcile all things unto Himself,” murmured Ralph, slightly stunned.

Mr Straike’s smile was smug. “I can see I have said enough. Ralph waited in that long moment for the impossible demand to take oath; but instead Straike said, "It is time we returned home." The tension snapped; the relief suppressed. “My dearest Lucy will be wondering what has kept us so long,” Straike said as he ushered Ralph out of the vestry, and back down the nave. Thank God for the Church of England, thought Ralph, as they walked back.

There was no opportunity for private discussion when they arrived at the vicarage, only time for a hasty wash and change into finery, and a brief bite to eat, before everyone made their way to the church for carol service. Laurie’s mother beamed with pride as they filled the front pew. The organ music swelled and the congregation rose for the first carol.

It was to please Laurie that Ralph had joined his family Christmas. That his presence also pleased Laurie’s mother and aunt was not entirely unexpected. But that his visit pleased the good reverend.... Ralph could well imagine what scathing comment Alec would make, when he eventually recounted the confrontation in the vestry; he imagined Laurie, too, would be less than pleased at Straike’s interference. His lips twitched with repressed humour; fortunately he could see the funny side. Most importantly, his subterfuge made it better for Laurie – and all without a word of lie. One did not choose one’s in-laws, after all, any more than one chose one’s own family. It was the lover who was chosen: the lover who came with the baggage of relatives; the lover whose needs had to be considered ahead of one’s own preferences.

Ralph found the right place in the hymnal and his pleasant baritone rose in unison with the rest:

 _Peace on the earth; good will to men  
From Heaven’s all gracious King  
The world in solemn stillness lay  
To hear the angels sing_


End file.
